


World enough, and time

by Nathea_Rayne



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Community: capkink, Jealous!Bucky, M/M, Matchmaker!Nat, POV Natasha, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Prompt Fill, this was supposed to be fluffy but then it got really serious halfway through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:45:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1955574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nathea_Rayne/pseuds/Nathea_Rayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Let me get this straight. The Winter Soldier keeps breaking into your hotel rooms to tell you you’re a terrible matchmaker, gives you advice on Steve’s dating habits, criticizes your styling choices, and then disappears for a few weeks." </i>
</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Natasha tries to find a date for Steve. The Winter Soldier disapproves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World enough, and time

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Tiếng Việt available: [World enough, and time (translation)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2309747) by [mabeo2610](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabeo2610/pseuds/mabeo2610)



> This was written for [this](http://capkink.dreamwidth.org/1349.html?thread=151109#cmt151109) capkink prompt: _"After the movie the Winter Soldier tracks down Natasha and corners in her hotel. Natasha thinks he's there to kill her. Instead he sits her down and begins telling her all the reasons he would be the best mach for Steve instead of Sharon or anyone else for that matter. Natasha goes from being terrified to amused to thinking this is the greatest idea ever."_
> 
> There is now a translation into Chinese available [over here](http://constanceeee.lofter.com/post/3a96b4_17f16d2). Thank you so much!

“Sharon Carter.”

Natasha does not flinch. She does _not_ , because she’s a spy and an assassin and the Winter Soldier did not just sneak up on her. In a split second she whirls around and has her gun trained on him. The Winter Soldier doesn’t flinch either. He stares at her, his face a blank mask devoid of any emotion, and repeats: “Sharon Carter.”

“What do you want from her?” Natasha asks, her gun pointed straight between his eyes. She is _not_ afraid. He looks to be unarmed, wearing a thin grey sweater over faded jeans instead of leather and kevlar, but she’s not going to believe for one moment that he’s harmless. He could probably kill her in seconds just with his metal arm.

Her finger is on the trigger, but she doesn’t shoot.

“I know who she is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She’s not his type.”

Natasha grips her gun a little tighter. “Are you drunk?”

“She’s blonde. Steve doesn’t like blondes.” The Winter Soldier’s glare is so intense that she genuinely wonders if this might be some sort of code and he’s trying to convey some vital information. “He likes brunettes.”

They stare each other in the eyes for a few seconds before he just turns around and walks out of her bedroom without even glancing down at the gun she still has trained on him.

“Stop,” she says. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

He doesn’t even slow down, just says “No, you won’t,” and walks out of the door.

She doesn’t shoot.

* * *

“The man with the wings.”

“Sam,” Natasha supplies. The first weapon she could grab was the knife she keeps taped onto the underside of the coffee table. It feels like a terribly inadequate defence.

“Sam,” he repeats. “Sam.” He rolls the name around in his mouth as if he could learn more about the man behind it if he just inspected it closely enough. “I don’t like him,” he finally decides.

“Well, he doesn’t like you either. You tore his wing off.”

The Winter Soldier shrugs – it looks awkward on him, as if he’s only just learning to properly use conventional body language. He probably is. “The construction was flawed. He was never a threat. He is weak.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow. “So?”

He glares at her from underneath the baseball cap he’s wearing. There are dark circles under his eyes and he hasn’t shaved in at least a week. “He lives with Steve.”

“Technically, Steve lives with him. It’s Sam’s house.” She inches slowly towards the sideboard where she stored a gun before she left the hotel room. He doesn’t stop her or react in any way, though his eyes follow her every movement.

“He lives with Steve,” he says again, more forcefully this time. “Why?”

_Because Steve didn’t want to stay in the apartment where you shot Fury. Because he needed someone to ground him. Because they spent half a year looking for you together._ “They are friends.”

“Friends,” the Winter Soldier repeats. “Good.” He drops his gaze for a second, then looks back up at her. “Are you his friend, too?”

Natasha is long past the point where she would have had to think about the answer to this question. “Yes, I am.”

He narrows his eyes, looking her up and down, possibly checking for weapons (there are none besides the knife in her hand – she had to enter the embassy unarmed and trust her hand-to-hand combat skills), possibly re-assessing her threat level, possibly – “He doesn’t like redheads.”

She’s standing in front of the sideboard now, but she doesn’t reach for the gun inside the drawer. “Excuse me?”

“The hair. It’s wrong. Wrong color. And it’s too straight. Too neat.”

Natasha could count the times in her life she has been speechless on one hand. The Winter Soldier giving her styling tips in a hotel in Shanghai is one of those times. “What?”

He nods once, apparently satisfied, turns to his left and climbs out of the window. By the time she has crossed the room and looks outside, he’s gone.

* * *

It’s pure coincidence that the next time he’s waiting for her in a hotel room in France, her hair falls down to her shoulders in soft, brown waves.

“It’s not just the hair” he says impatiently. “You’re too… too…”

“Too what?” she prompts, not even reaching for the gun in her boot anymore. If he wanted to kill her, he would have tried to do it months ago.

The Winter Soldier gives an annoyed huff, which is probably the most human thing she’s seen him do so far. “You’re not yourself. Steve doesn’t like that.”

“I think you have the wrong idea about me…” She stumbles upon the name for a second and spontaneously decides on “Sergeant. Steve and I are just friends, and I feel no inclination to change that.”

The Winter Soldier looks at her for a long moment, probably trying to figure out if she’s telling the truth. Then he nods. “Good. Steve wants someone who is always honest with him. I never lied to him. You’re a spy. Spies get used to lying.”

Natasha doesn’t even try to deny it, which seems to please him. He turns to the door, hesitating for a moment with his flesh-and-blood hand already on the handle. “My name is James,” he says, and then he leaves.

* * *

“Lillian Coleman.”

“From accounting? She works for Stark Industries now, I hear. What exactly is she doing now?”

“She’s an accountant. You know that, you talked to her last week.”

“That’s right. What about her?”

“Stop trying to set Steve up with her.” He spits the words out as if he’s been holding them back for a long time, and Natasha raises her eyebrows just a little bit.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She has a lip piercing. Steve doesn’t like piercings.”

“Oh really?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “That’s interesting. Did he tell you that back in 1940? I bet there were a lot of women with lip piercings around when you two were growing up.”

James fixes her with a glare that would have scared anybody else, but Natasha just waits calmly until he answers: “She’s an accountant.”

“I heard that the first time. So?”

“Accountants are _boring_.”

“Seriously? Don’t you think Steve could use a little bit of boredom in his life?”

“No.”

The answer comes so fast that she’s taken aback by it at first… and then something clicks in her brain. “Ahh” she says slowly. “Then what do you think he needs?”

He shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other and it takes her a second to process that she’s standing in a hotel somewhere in Zagreb, discussing Steve’s non-existent love life with the Winter Soldier, _and he’s fidgeting_.

“He needs a… someone who is… _strong_ and can take care of him. Who understands him and doesn’t… isn’t intimidated by him.” He licks his lips. “Someone… who loves him even when he’s sick and… and weak. Not because he’s… he’s… the Captain but because he’s _Steve_. Someone…”

He stops there and Natasha quietly finishes “Someone like you.”

“No”, he spits.

“No. Not _someone_ like you.” She gives him a tiny smile. “You.”

James glares at her once more, then turns around and stalks out of the door without another word.

* * *

“Let me get this straight. The Winter Soldier keeps breaking into your hotel rooms to tell you you’re a terrible matchmaker, gives you advice on Steve’s dating habits, criticizes your styling choices, and then disappears for a few weeks.”

“Yes.”

“You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding, Nat.”

“I couldn’t make this up, Sam. This is the most absurd thing that has ever happened to me, and I’ve fought aliens next to a demi-god.”

There is a beat of silence at the other end of the line before Sam asks the question she has been waiting for: “Did he try to kill you yet?”

“No. It looks like he just wants to make sure Steve’s in good hands.”

“I can’t decide if that’s creepy or cute. Hey, wait, are you sure he didn’t bug your room? I don’t want him to think I – ”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “The line is secure. And don’t worry, he has already ruled you out. You’re not a threat, that’s what he called it.”

There is an indignant squawk. “What? Why am I not a threat? I’m charming, I’m handsome…”

“And so modest.”

“Yeah! And I can _fly_ , how cool is that?”

“Apparently your wings are flawed and you’re weak.”

“He’s talking shit about my wings? You’re serious. He’s talking shit about my – I can’t believe that guy’s talking shit about my _wings_. He’s probably just jealous because he can’t fly _at all_.”

“Sam,” she says. “You understand what this means, don’t you?”

He sobers up quickly. “Yeah. How is he doing?”

“Surprisingly well, I think. He’s thin, but not starving. He’s clean, seems tired but healthy, apparently he’s taking care of himself.”

“Good. That’s good. We gotta tell him, Nat. We gotta tell Steve.”

“I know. I’d have called you sooner, but…”

“He wasn’t ready.”

“Yes.”

“And do you think he’s ready now?”

“I do, but I’m going to ask him what _he_ thinks. He has to make this decision himself.”

“Yeah, you do that. I’m gonna talk to Steve, make sure he doesn’t come after you before Barnes wants to see him.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“It’s the least I can do. Take care.”

* * *

It’s another three weeks before James turns up in her hotel room in Cape Town. Natasha doesn’t need to turn around to know he’s there, even though he didn’t make a sound. She can feel his presence behind her, sudden and intense, but she’s not startled. The Winter Soldier doesn’t scare her anymore. She’s also not surprised that he chose this particular date to come visit her.

“Have you had dinner already?” she asks, gesturing towards the pizza on the dining table in front of her. “We can share.”

He hesitates for a moment, but then he walks around the dinner table, sits down across from her and grabs a slice without saying a word. Natasha waits for a name, but he doesn’t give her one, just sits there, eating pizza and watching her.

“What do you think about Mark Johnson?” she asks after a while.

“The guy living across the street from Sam?” James answers without missing a beat. “He’s a civilian.”

“And?”

“And he sleeps with a stuffed pillow in the form of a cartoon horse.”

“Huh,” she says, hiding her smirk behind another bite from her pizza slice. “Nothing wrong with horses.”

James makes a face. “Steve hates horses. Used to be allergic to them.”

“Alright, then what about… Catherine… Jason? Jacobs? Something like that. Sam thinks she’s nice.”

“Sam hasn’t seen her browser history.”

“More horses?”

“Nah. Methamphetamine.”

“Wow. Sam sure knows how to pick them. Maybe she’s just a fan of Breaking Bad?”

James arches an eyebrow. “Or maybe she has a meth lab in her cellar.”

“Okay, so probably not Steve’s type. Do you know Jason Greene?”

He sets his half-eaten slice of pizza down on the table and looks at her. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you mind?”

“You could just ask me.”

Natasha places her elbows on the table and props her chin up on her hands. “Why me?”

“You’re trying to help Steve.”

“So is Sam,” she remarks.

“Yeah, but Sam’s too close to him. He would’ve told him.”

“And you knew I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah. I like you.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sound in the room the ticking of the clock hanging above the door. James is staring at the table between them. His hair is short now, but cut so unevenly that she concludes he must have done it himself. He’s wearing a black leather jacket over a dark green shirt and jeans. He also seems to have showered and shaved this morning. Nothing about him reminds her of the Winter Soldier.

“Why are you here today, James?” Natasha asks softly.

He looks up and the emptiness in his eyes is replaced by a hesitant determination, as if he’s afraid of what he’s about to do but knows that he has to do it. “It’s been a year today. Since Project Insight.”

She nods, prompting him to go on.

“There were some things I had to take care of myself. I had to… had to find myself again.”

“And did you?”

“I remember… most things. The things I did when I was their – I…“ He stops to take a deep breath. “I remember Brooklyn. My family. The war. Steve.”

“He has been looking for you,” Natasha says when he doesn’t go on.

“I know.” He drops his gaze again, and there is so much raw emotion in his eyes, so much pain and grief and desperation, that it’s hard not to look away. But this is good. She knows it’s good that he doesn’t try to hide it. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t have looked him in the eye, after… After.”

“And now?”

Another deep breath. “It’s time.”

“Yes.” She smiles at him. “It is.”

* * *

They arrive at Sam’s house in D.C. twenty-six hours later. James hasn’t said a word since they left the airport, and Natasha doesn’t try to push it. They stay in the car in front of Sam’s house, just waiting, just breathing. James is staring out the window, lost in his thoughts, making no move to get out of the car.

“I’ve been wondering what I’m supposed to tell him,” he says when the silence has been stretching on for too long. “’Sorry’ doesn’t seem to cut it. ‘I missed you’ isn’t enough.”

“But it would be a start,” she says softly.

“Yeah. I guess so.” He turns around and smiles at her – it’s the first time she has seen him smile, and even though it doesn’t reach his sad eyes, it makes her feel warm inside. “Thank you. For everything.”

Natasha nods once. “Now go get him.” She glances over his shoulder – Sam has opened the front door and is peeking outside. “You’ll be fine.”

He steels himself with one last deep breath, and when she gets out of the car, he follows, just as Steve pushes past Sam out of the front door. They both freeze the second they see each other, but it only takes a slight nudge against James’ shoulder to make him move again and take another step, and then another, and another.

They meet halfway across the front lawn.

Steve opens his mouth once, then closes it, then opens it again. A million emotions are flickering across his face in one instant, and she’s pretty sure those are tears in his eyes. “Bucky?” he says at last.

“Yeah. That’s me.”

Natasha can’t see James’ face from where she’s standing behind him, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

“It’s… good to see you.”

“Steve, I… I’m sorry. For everything.”

“So am I, Buck.”

“I thought telling you I missed you would sound stupid and cheesy, but Natasha said it would be a good start, so. I did. Miss you.”

Steve makes a choked-off sound that could be either a sob or a laugh or possibly both, then he reaches out and pulls his long-lost best friend into a bone-crushing hug. Natasha tenses for a moment, but James doesn’t even seem surprised, just lets himself be manhandled. A second later he wraps both his arms around Steve’s torso.

“Do you think we could maybe just… start over again?” he mumbles into his shoulder.

“Yeah, that… that would be great,” Steve answers and yeah, that, that’s definitely a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Alright. So. Hi. I’m not dead.”

Steve’s grin nearly splits his face in two and Natasha has to resist the sudden urge to grab Sam’s hand and squeeze it as he answers, “Hi. Neither am I.”

They stand there in silence, neither of them sure what to say or if they even want to say anything at all. Neither of them wanting to break the moment.

When Sam walks around Steve and James to place an arm around her shoulders, she doesn’t shake it off, just smiles. “About the other thing…” he says quietly.

“They’ll figure it out on their own,” she answers, watching James press his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

* * *

They do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://nathearayne.tumblr.com), if you feel like rolling around in Bucky feels with me. :)


End file.
